Dear Journal,

She's leaving me. One day she's my desk buddy and best friend and the next she's in the hospital fighting for her life. All I have of her at the moment is the multicolored dinosaur that sits atop both of our desks and a picture of her that she hates but I love. Both are currently moved to my work area. It's not fair. She was - is, a good person,always smiling and never selfish. And yet that stupid car ran a red light. That stupid car didn't see Scene walking across the road. That stupid car ran my only friend over.

I don't remember much of the call. I remember coming into work and not seeing her there, thinking that it was weird but getting along with my day as normal. I mean, she could've been late, or sick, or doing something away from her keyboard at the moment. God, did I not know how wrong I was. At about twelve I get a phone call and pick it up quickly,thinking it's going to be my raven haired friend explaining herself. It was instead some man,who sounded rather impatient to be making a call like this. I couldn't help wondering how many other calls like this he had to make today, and for once was glad I was just a lowly intern instead of whatever job this man had. He explained the thing to me- twice actually - because Scene's accident just didn't sink in the first time. I remember him hanging up while I sat frozen in my chair,the dial tone in my ear. I barely even heard it.

I cannot do work either. I don't know if it's because I miss her, or she always made me happier, but my mind is completely unfocused since I got that call. A pile of paperwork sits to my left, but until I know what's become of my little Scene I won't be able to do it. It's almost like a pull in my mind, forcing me back to the subject of her.

And that's when I realized, she has no one. She has no support during this horrible time in her life, the time that could literally be spent as her last moments. She's laying in the hospital bed with wires all about her small,fragile body and there's no one to hold her hand and pray for her. It sounds conceited,but I'm the only person she truly has. I guess we're good for each other in that way. We each only have each other. Maybe that's why I'm in love with her. Maybe it's because besides my aunt she's it.

Without a second thought I grab the picture,the dinosaur and her laptop (left on her desk) and write on a post-it where I'm going,choosing my words carefully so as not to incite fear. I'm out of the office within two minutes and running to the hospital at full human speed. Maybe that's another thing we have in common. None of us can afford cars. See Journal, being an intern means that you don't get paid, which is why I work at Staples on the side and Scene works at some fast-food place. I think I pass it on the way to the hospital actually,and debate on the subject of stopping in and saying something to them. But again,wasting time.

As the cold wind whips across my back, I am full of hate for the person who did this. The man on the phone explained that the driver was drunk, and as it happens more times than not, Scene was just there. Innocently crossing the road to get back to her shabby apartment. And then like the dials of fate just spun around crazily, her moment came. She barely had time to get out of the way as the guy turned the corner. He sped off, leaving her in the street. It was the manager of the store on the corner who found her. Hate coursed through me again. How dare he not even care! How dare he become drunk? How dare he hit her?

If you are wondering what's going on, I'm sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, furiously writing in a composition journal. This is happening for two reasons. Reason one is that the counselor sitting next to me suggested I find an outlet for all the emotions I must be feeling. Reason two is much more simple. Reason two is that I'm afraid if I don't get my feelings and emotions out somewhere in this world, I might explode. I 'm afraid that if I don't figure out some way to express the feelings of the last hour, it'll build up and explode like a balloon blown up too much. Because that's what I feel right now, like a balloon with too much air.

A/N - Hey guys! I hope you liked the first chapter of this story! Please don't be afraid to leave constructive comments in the reviews if there's any errors I missed while editing. Also the schedule for this is tentatively Monday's so hopefully I can get these out on Monday. See you next time!